Victor gave a distressed grumble and clawed at the bottom stair. He looked up at Lee, backed up a step, and to Lee’s surprise, he barked sharply.
“Victor, really? It’s just a step.” Above him, Lee heard a door open. He glanced up, and there she stood. Cut-off jean shorts showed him sights he’d never imagined, and he knew at once he’d need hours to take it all in. Wildflowers. Birds. Branches. Every color in nature. He’d fall into them if he didn’t look away, so he pulled his eyes up. Above the shorts, she wore a long-sleeved madras in faded plaid oranges and blues. It was buttoned low, and Lee thought he caught the hint of a bikini top beneath it. A vivid flash of red peeked out behind her open collar, but, from the bottom of the stairs, he couldn’t make out what was there.
“Hey, Victor!” she squealed. Before his eyes, Wren dropped to her knees, and Victor flew up the stairs. He crashed into Wren, paws flailing, tail whipping. Wren went backward and caught herself, laughing as Victor licked her face in with uncontained joy. He watched as she sat back and took the puppy into her lap, looking just as elated.
Yes. This.
The sight of them filled his happiness quota for the week, and still Lee wanted more. He climbed the stairs slowly… slowly to take in the sight and slowly not to disturb the moment.
“Victor, you’ve gotten so big!” Wren scrubbed the dog as she tried to dodge his kisses. In spite of himself, Lee envied Victor his proximity.
“He wouldn’t go up the stairs until he saw you,” Lee said, reaching the top step and catching her eyes. She wore a tiny butterfly barbell in her left brow. It had blue wings that matched her hair. He noticed that her blue streaks were sharper, her black layers darker. She’d touched up her color. He knew better than to think it was for him, but he wanted her to know he’d noticed. “Your hair looks great. And I love that butterfly.”
Her cheeks colored, and she reached a hand up to him. “Help me up.”
Lee gladly took her hand and pulled Wren to her feet while she cradled Victor with her other arm. He kept nuzzling her in his excitement, so she drew her hand out of Lee’s grasp to steady the puppy.
“He’s excited to see you,” Lee said needlessly. “He’s not alone.”
She fought her smile and looked away. “Let me just get my stuff, and we can go.” Wren moved toward the door and set Victor down. The puppy had no intention of being left behind, and when she opened the door to her apartment, Victor stepped inside. Lee followed just in time to see Agnes arch her back and hiss at the canine intruder.
“Whoa,” Lee called, and Victor froze in his tracks, his tail tucked.
“Agnes, shoo!” Wren scolded, and the cat darted out of the room.
At the sight of her retreat, Victor broke his stay and was about to tear after her when Lee reached down and caught him.
“Oh, no, you don’t. She’d cut you to ribbons.”
“Sorry,” Wren said, picking up a floppy blue hat and what looked like a beach bag from her coffee table. “I didn’t think about that.”
“No problem,” Lee said, eyeing her bag and hat. “You… uh… you know we’re not spending the day at the beach, right?”
Wren crossed her arms and cocked a hip. Her brows lowered over her eyes. The closest beach was three hours away.
“I burn easily,” she said. “You, of all people, should support healthy skin, Dr. Leland Hawthorne.”
That name — and the way she said it — stabbed like a knife.
“Please don’t call me that.”
Her brows bunched, and her look morphed from censure to confusion.
“Call you what?” she asked, blinking at him.
“Leland,” he said, swallowing the bile that crept up his throat.
“That’s your name, isn’t it?”
Lee sighed. Would she understand if he tried to explain it to her? The name — his father’s choice — had always chafed. And despite his wishes, Thomas Hawthorne always called him Leland. “It’s a refined name,” he said whenever Lee had protested. Marcelle, too, had preferred it, once telling him that Lee was “the name of a barrel racer at the parish rodeo.”
Looking back, Lee realized that should have told him something.
“I just… have always hated it,” he said, shaking his head. “Call me Lee. Please.”
Wren watched him for a moment before nodding. “Lee it is.” And then she wrinkled her nose. “Leland’s kind of pretentious.”
Lee chuckled in relief. “I’ve always thought so.”
“He sounds like a tool.”
At this, Lee threw back his head and laughed. How come she got him when no one else did? “He’s a tool who wears an ascot and talks through his nose.”
Wren giggled. “And he has a trust fund to go with his yacht.”
They both laughed, Lee’s shoulders relaxing at the sight of her amusement. Remembering Marcelle’s rodeo comment, he had to ask. “What about Lee?”
She put a knuckle to her mouth and studied him. “Lee… takes his puppy kayaking and knows all the words to ‘Bad Horse.’”
The words he liked, but it was the approval in her face that made him want to pull her into his arms. He mastered the urge and reached for her hat instead. “And for the record, Lee’s very much in support of healthy skin.” He smiled at her. “Especially yours.”
This made her blush again, and he liked that even more. “Let’s go.”
Victor wasted no time flopping onto Wren’s lap as soon as they settled into the Jeep. She brushed her hands over Victor’s coat, and his tail thumped against Lee’s thigh.
“Mmm,” Wren hummed, petting him with both hands. “He’s so soft. I missed this.”
As they pulled away from Wren’s place, Lee seized the opportunity. “You can visit him whenever you want,” he offered, glancing over at her. She rewarded him with an eye roll.
“Nice try,” she said, her tone wry, but her eyes smiled. “So, where exactly are we going?”
Lee pulled onto St. Julien and then into the turning lane. “We are going to Lake Martin. Have you ever been there in the spring?”
Wren gave a dry laugh. “I’ve never been there at all.”
“Never?” Lee’s eyes went wide. Lake Martin was the biggest body of water in a twenty-mile radius. “And you’re from here?”
“Born and raised.”
In the back of his mind, Lee wondered how many times their paths had crossed over the years. Lafayette, a city of about 200,000 people, often felt like a small town. He couldn’t go to Downtown Alive or Albertsons without seeing someone who had either graduated from Episcopal School of Acadiana with him or knew his parents. If he’d seen Wren somewhere in town, he couldn’t imagine not noticing her.
“It’s a crime you’ve never been to Lake Martin.”
“Why’s that?”
“Do you know what’s out there?” As he asked, he hoped she’d say no. If she said no, his luck was about to change for the better.
“No, what’s out there?”
A grin split Lee’s face, and he bit his lip to keep it under control. “You’re going to love it.”
THEY CROSSED THE Vermilion River, and Lee slowed the Jeep to make the turn. Wren didn’t miss the sign.
“Rookery Road?”
Lee didn’t respond. He just drove them through the woods and past the Welcome Center until the gravel road angled to the right, and the cypress trees began to thin. When the lake came into view, Wren gasped beside him.
“Oh my God… are those birds?” She pointed to the puffs of white that dotted the cypress branches.
In every tree — on nearly every branch — Great Egrets perched, their downy heads fanned out like asters. They numbered in the hundreds.
“They’re egrets. Lake Martin is a wild bird preserve, and every year, thousands of birds migrate here to make their nests,” he said, slowing the Jeep so she could get a better look. “The egrets stay year round and so do other marsh birds.”
He glanced over to find Wren transfixed. Her
eyes lit with wonder, and her pretty lips parted. She leaned closer to him to peer out his window, and her delicious scent filled his head. Lee brought the Jeep to a stop and pressed the button to lower his window. As soon as he did, Victor stood between them and sniffed the air.
“We’ll be able to see a lot better from the kayak.”
Wren tore her eyes from the scenery and locked them with his. “We can get close?” As she asked, she was closer to him than she had been since Friday, and he couldn’t help his smile.
“We can paddle right between the trees, right under their nests if you want.”
Wren nodded. “Let’s go.”
Lee didn’t wait to be told twice. He drove the last half-mile stretch of road and parked his Jeep across the lot from the boat launch.
“I’ll get the kayak down and load it up if you walk Victor,” Lee said, stepping out of the Jeep to untether the straps that held the Trident. “Just don’t take him by the water.”
“Why?” Wren asked, taking Victor in her arms and scooting out of the Jeep. “Is he scared?”
“Well, he should be. There are alligators.”
Wren’s brows shot up. “Right. No walking by the water,” she said, settling Victor on the ground by her feet. “Let’s go, Victor. Walk away from the monsters.”
Lee watched them head toward the woods on the other side of the parking lot. Victor didn’t look back but kept pace with Wren as they retreated. Although his puppy legs were getting a little longer, he still didn’t quite reach Wren’s knee. The sight of them stilled Lee’s hands on the tie-downs. The idea of a boat suddenly seemed so inadequate. He wouldn’t be able to lie beside her and study all that skin. Lee cursed himself for not going with a simple picnic. At least they could have stretched out together on a blanket.
He shook the regret from his head. She was here. That was all that mattered. And he could hope for a time when there would be a picnic blanket.
After Lee set the kayak on the ground, he filled it with the cooler, lunch provisions, and life jackets. He dragged it along the strip of grass beside the boat launch until he reached the put-in.
“Ready?” Both Wren and Victor looked up when he called. Wren wore a smile, and Lee watched it grow as she walked closer.
“I’ve never done anything like this.”
“Never been in a kayak?” he asked, doubtful.
Wren shook her head. “Not even a canoe.”
“No way. Really? Any boating?”
“Nope.” She gave a one-shoulder shrug. “I’ve been tubing down the Whiskey Chitto River. That’s it.”
How could she have grown up in South Louisiana and never spend any time in a boat?
“Well, that’s about to change.” Lee pushed the kayak until the nose met the water. “Come here, Victor.”
The dog approached, and Lee grabbed the Outward Hound life vest and fought with Victor until he was secured.
“That is so cute,” Wren said, as Lee clipped Victor’s leash to the back of the vest.
“He’s pretty good while we’re in the kayak, but if something happened, I wouldn’t want him just relying on his dog paddle.” Lee looked back at Wren. “What about you? Good swimmer?”
Wren’s eyes went wide. “Sure… I mean… I can tread water for a little while.”
Lee shook his head. Not good enough. He reached into the kayak and grabbed an orange vest.
“Put this on.”
Wren frowned at him. “What about you?”
“I’m an excellent swimmer.”
She looked into the kayak and back at him. “I see two paddles. What if I hit you in the head and you go overboard?” This time she shook her head. “No, if I’m wearing one of these, so are you.”
Biting down on his smile, Lee snagged the other life vest. “Yes, ma’am.”
When they were both safely outfitted, Lee pointed to the front seat. “Okay, go ahead and sit down. I’ll hold it steady for you.”
Lee bent down and braced the kayak as water lapped against its nose. He looked up and saw uncertainty in Wren’s eyes. “Don’t worry. I won’t let you tip over.”
She hid her expression with a frown. “You’d better not.” She walked around him, moving just to the water’s edge, and she gripped his shoulder.
Lee looked down just as she lifted her left foot, and his eyes went wide.
“You have bluebirds on the tops of your feet.”
Wings spread in flight, colors true to life in detail like he’d never seen; the birds spanned her lovely feet, the straps of her flip-flops hiding little.
Wren giggled as she found her footing in the kayak and sunk down. “Yes, I do. Do you like them?”
He watched her plant each foot in the notched rests along the kayak’s hull. Lee had never been a foot guy, but the sight of Wren’s adorned feet did him in.
“Only better than anything I’ve ever seen,” he muttered, making her laugh again. Lee tried to clear his head. “Do you want Victor with me or with you?”
“Me!” Wren clapped her hands, and Lee scooped up the dog and set him down between her knees. Victor wagged and moved in to lick Wren’s face.
“Sit, boy.” The dog obeyed, and Lee handed Wren a paddle. “Okay, I’m going to push you in farther, and the kayak’s going to rock a bit when I get in.”
Wren glanced up at him again with apprehension. “It is?”
“Yes, but you’re going to brace us with the paddle. We won’t tip. I promise.”
“We’d better not,” she said, making him laugh.
He pushed until the kayak was a little more than halfway in. “Okay, here goes. You brace us on the left, and I’ll take the right.”
Wren’s back went straight, and she stabbed her paddle down the left side. Lee stepped in, and the kayak tilted left then right as he sat. He gave one push, and they glided into the water, balancing out.
“See? That wasn’t so bad.” He anchored his feet on either side of Wren’s seat and began to move them away from the boat launch.
The day was cool and clear, and the wind blew enough to create a light chop, but the ride was smooth enough.
“How do I do this?” Wren called over her shoulder, her paddle raised awkwardly in front of her.
“It’s an easy motion,” Lee said. “It should feel natural and comfortable. Basically, just dip your paddle into the water. Your lower hand pulls while your upper one pushes. Do the same on the opposite side. If you want to go fast and straight, let your paddle enter the water as vertically straight as possible.”
She tested the motion, and Lee felt the kayak pick up a little speed. “Like this?”
He smiled at the excitement in her voice. “Just like that. And if we want to turn, just paddle on the opposite side with shallow pulls. Going straight and easy is the same. You just balance each side.”
Wren held the paddle lightly, and she stroked on the right, slowly making them go left.
“It’s easy,” she said, sounding surprised.
“Of course it’s easy,” Lee said, laughing.
“You’d better not be laughing at me again,” she threatened, but he could hear the tease in her voice.
Lee inhaled a lungful of fresh air and let it go in relief. It was going to be a good day.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“SO, WHERE DO you want to go?” Lee asked.
Wren scanned the horizon. The kayak seemed ridiculously small against the expanse of the lake. Even though she could clearly see the opposite shore, she felt like a ladybug traversing the ocean on a leaf.
Still, the sight that stretched out before her was breathtaking. Cypress trees draped in Spanish moss gave the lake a haunting allure. Reflections of fluffy clouds rippled on the water’s surface.
And the birds…
Everywhere she looked, there were birds. Even as they paddled away from the bass boats queuing up at the launch, she spotted a blue heron stepping through the shallows near the bank. Wren reached for her phone to snap a picture, but it startled
and took flight. She wondered how close they’d really be able to get to the egrets perched in the trees.
“Can we go over there?” She pointed to their left toward the trees where hundreds of the white birds nested.
“Sure. Anything you want.” She could feel the force of Lee’s strokes as he pushed them across the water. Wren did her best to help out, but his efforts were more sure and true. He eased back as they approached the first curtain of cypresses.
In front of her, Victor tipped up his nose and sniffed as the low-hanging moss passed overhead. Wren rested her paddle across her lap as Lee slowed even more, the sound of his paddling now just a tiny trickle.
They drifted beneath a great egret with feathers fanned out like a dandelion. Wren pointed at it.
“You see that? The way his feathers look all wispy?” she asked quietly.
“Yeah?” Lee whispered back.
“That’s his breeding plumage. He’s trying to attract a mate.”
Lee chuckled behind her.
She wished then that she could see him without turning around.
“What’s the human equivalent of breeding plumage?” he asked.
Wren stifled a laugh at his question. “A tattoo, of course,” she whispered back.
“Well, then I’m in luck.” He was speaking so softly, Wren wasn’t sure she’d heard him clearly.
She took out her phone so she didn’t have to respond to him, and she snapped a few shots of the egret.
“So, is that bird going to become a tattoo?” Lee asked, his voice going gentle. By the sound, Wren could tell he was smiling.
She shrugged. “Maybe. Probably. If not one of mine, then someone else’s.” It was an honest answer. She’d take the pictures home and draw some sketches. The sketches she liked best would become templates in her book at the studio, and, more than likely, someone would buy them.
“I have to draw them first and see if they’re any good,” she explained.
Lee went silent for a minute.
“So… why tattoos?” he asked. “I mean, why ink over other art forms?”
She wasn’t ready for his question, so she deflected. “Why gynecology? Over other kinds of medicines?”
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